


The Kill

by TheGuitarPerson



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGuitarPerson/pseuds/TheGuitarPerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante wonders if its possible to kill someone without ending his life. Vergil's certainly been doing something similar to him all their lives. Dante x Vergil brotherhood/implied extreme codependency</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kill

_What if I wanted to break_  
Laugh it all off in your face  
What would you do?

 _What if I fell to the floor_  
Couldn't take all this anymore  
What would you do?

 

 

* * *

 

“Just where the hell do you think you’re going?”

The crude language, even if it is mild, catches him off-guard. Vergil considered swearing uncouth, usually.

Dante’s hands ball up into fists. He knows what this is about.

It’s their birthday today, so like an idiot he went into town that morning to grab that delicious garlic roasted chicken Mom loved. Maybe save her the trouble of going into town and being called a witch.

 Maybe, just maybe he thought, just this once they’ll leave him alone. He made the short walk from their little cottage to town, reminding himself to be doubly sure to avoid eye-contact and speak politely.

He even ignored the usual “devil’s whore children” barrage of murmurs as soon as he got to the town square.

He was in a fist-fight four minutes later. The usual spiel about how he and his brother were _abominations_. Then came the threats to his Mom, to show her “ _what it’s like to fuck a real man”_.

Later there were four grown men, with four pairs of legs broken because of him.

He came home to a lecture four hours long. More of the usual stuff about being _careful_ and _living up to Father’s legacy_ from Vergil.

He just turned eight years old a few hours ago and he already feels old.

Tired of this life, this hiding, this _half-existence_ he has to go through because he’s a Son Of Sparda. He wants to live life, go to a real school, have friends outside of Mom and Vergil; maybe show that what he can _really_ do when he trusts them enough.

But as long as he lives here in the mountains, in this _sanctuary_ as Mom called it, he won’t have it.

The decision to leave came surprisingly easy. Actually carrying it out was another matter.

And now, Vergil seems determined to stop him.

“You’re not _leaving_ us, are you?” It was a question, but laced with steel.

“Of course not! I just…I just need to get away for a while. To see what else is out there.”

His brother sneered, his eyes glinting menace in the night.

“To see what? You _know_ what else is out there. Don’t you see enough whenever we go into town? All those ungrateful _vermin_ ….”

“I know….I just….they can’t be _all_ bad, right? I mean, I’m sure some people not from here….”

“They _are,_ brother.” The words from Vergil are so sure, so _final_ that they are almost enough to make him change his mind.

His brother looked strangely melancholic. “We are all you have, Dante. Is that….not _enough_ for you?”

The pleading in his brother’s voice does it; he lays down his duffel bag and decides to stay, at least for another night.

He doesn’t get another night.

He gets forty minutes.

They, his mother and brother, are attacked by the darkness.

He gets blood and pain, screaming until his voice gave out.

He figures out too late that it _was_ enough. More than enough.

* * *

 

Dante wondered if it was possible to love someone with all your being, yet want to make them suffer at the same time.

The fight with Vergil at the top of the tower had been different. Different than usual.

It was still good -- _great_ even. His brother had never been sharper, never been so _strong._

No one really understood the bond that they shared when they crossed swords.

It went beyond kinship, beyond brotherhood.

Vergil was the one person who could really understand, the only one whom he never had to fear breaking. In a brittle world, Vergil was _steel_ , mighty and unyielding.

Mom would be disappointed, he could tell. Vergil had basically caused a wide-scale catastrophe and all Dante felt was absolute _joy_ at being able to see him again.

To fight him again.

To just be _with_ him again.  

But that time, he looked into those eyes, so similar to his own, and saw nothing.

No anger, no pain, no joy or sadness. Just cold blue staring right through him.

“ _Foolishness, Dante_.”

He listened as his brother spoke of might and how one must wield absolute might for control. Dante think it might have been the pain and blood loss, but he catches a glimpse of Vergil as he runs the katana through his stomach.

“….you cannot _protect_ anything. Let alone _yourself_!”

Vergil jerks him close and he sees his brother vanish before his eyes, leaving only a cold, merciless doppelganger mocking him.

He reaches out as he falls, remembering their old sparring sessions. Vergil would always beat him within an inch of his life.

He’d always wait for Dante to get back up and they would continue their fights.

His finger twitches and he feels the rain splashing across his face as he starts to recuperate from the blood loss.

And then, _pain_. Monstrous, crushing pain as Vergil drives his own weapon into his ribcage.

The impalement itself is not unfamiliar, it was a favorite tactic of the demons he’s fought over time.

But this time, the pain is beyond anything he’s ever felt.

He sees no trace of his brother this time.

* * *

 

 _Look in my eyes_  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you

 _I tried to be someone else_  
But nothing seemed to change  
I know now, this is who I really am inside

 _Finally found myself_  
Fighting for a chance  
I know now, this is who I really am

* * *

  
III.

 

They are the Sons of Sparda.

He tells him that with as much conviction as he can. He had never been one for speeches, preferring to let actions speak. His encounter with the girl, Arkham’s daughter, has changed him.

He searches again for his brother in those cold blue depths, praying to gods he never believed in.

_Vergil, come on…please, I know you’re there…_

“I need more _power_!”

_Gone. He’s gone._

They fight, more vicious than ever. Each sword swing brings not the familiar excitement or rush, but a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

He tries to lock swords as often as he can, searching for any traces of the one he used to love. In a few instances, he thinks he sees his brother, but….

….so, so _different_ now. Not strong and calculating, but fatigued and unsure.

He gains the upper hand, sending his opponent to his knees. A taunt comes out of his mouth, urging his brother to fight on. It was the way they always used to motivate each other.

“The portal to human world is closing, Dante! Because the amulets have been separated!”

He knows what he needs to do.

The cut of the sword is swift as he slices through Vergil, a spray of blood tainting the river of souls passing through their feet.

Vergil staggers, taking his half of the amulet. He teeters over the edge, smiling contemptuously.

“No one can have this Dante. It’s mine. It belongs to a Son of Sparda.

Dante musters his strength, making a grab for Vergil when the cold steel of Yamato glints at his face.

“Leave me and go, it you don’t want to be trapped in the demon world.”

_“…Vergil? Is that you?”_

“I’m staying.”

He tries to cry out but the battle has drained him.

“This place was our father’s home.”

His world crumbles as he gazes into those eyes; _Vergil’s_ eyes.

His brother smiles at him before the darkness swallows him.

Dante idly wonders if this was as close as one could get to death with actually dying.

* * *

 

 _Look in my eyes_  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you


End file.
